Love. Everyone desires it. If they say they don’t, I would question if they are human. Love in the simplest terms is life. It is the reason for living and makes the world a better place. It illuminates your inner soul and makes you a better person. It puts a bounce in your step and a light in your eye. When you love someone, you want to do better and be better. You want to make their life better. People have done amazing things in the name of love.
I’ve often wondered why love is so difficult if it is so desirable. I suppose if I knew the answer, I would be wealthy and sought after for advice. If others knew, there would not be so many books and songs written on the topic. Apparently, trouble with love is common though. There are times when I hear a song that says exactly what I am feeling, and then I know I am not alone. (Perhaps if I could just meet the love-lost writer of the song, we could both be happy finally? I mean we are going through the same pain.)
The love I want appears to be the kind in fairytales. There is desire, respect, and friendship. It includes random dancing in the kitchen, driving down the road singing songs badly together, and enjoying complete silence together while watching a sunset. I want someone who loves me for who I am. He loves that I can go from the barn to the symphony in one day (and he will do those things with me). He doesn’t get jealous of my horse because he knows that’s my Zen moment. He laughs when I leave little notes in his truck. He actually listens to how I feel. He trusts me enough to tell me what is upsetting him (even if it is something I did). We talk to each other regularly. We cry on each other’s shoulders. We know the other’s dreams and support them. We randomly surprise each other with little things, like a favorite home-cooked meal or tickets to a favorite event (even though those things may not be our personal favorites).
This dream man of mine only wants me. He is confident enough to tell me that and shows me I am his and he is mine. He needs no other woman’s attention. He has his own hobbies and friends, and I have mine. We can both go do those hobbies and hang out with those friends individually – respecting that personal time and those friendships. We are not hurt by this time because we love each other enough to value that space and those friends. (Who doesn’t need that?) When he is gone, I don’t worry because I know he is mine and he will return. I know he can be faithful because he is happy and an honest, honorable man.
This ultimate man considers my feelings, and I his. We are a couple in every sense. We are friends, partners, and teammates. When one hurts, the other feels it and wants to protect and support. This is the love of movies, books and fairytales. It is not perfect, but it is real and enduring. He doesn’t quit me and I don’t quit him. This is the love I want. This is the love I need.
Will I ever know this love? Maybe. Maybe not. I may have already met him but he is not ready. I may have seen him and not known. He may be afraid to talk to me. We may even be friends right now and have not reached that point of in our relationship. Whatever the case, I will not stop believing in fairytales. He is out there. But, I guess I will not know what the future holds until I get there. I just hope it’s soon…like next week is good for me.
What makes my ‘love’ so fine?
As I look at the world today, I realize that words are important – very important. Words can make you famous, save someone’s life, or even, get you killed.
Today’s news states that James Foley, a reporter, was murdered. (http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/aug/19/james-wright-foley-beheaded-isis-video) I am not sure if I met Mr.Foley while dealing with media on deployments, but I had some friends who did. They are in shock. The world is in shock.
Though I have been deployed three times now, I still do not understand the hate in the world. I’ve seen it in the eyes of people I have walked by. I have heard it in the whistle of rockets coming onto our base. And yet, I don’t understand it. I refuse to understand it as it has neither humanity nor logic.
Many of the journalists I have met over the years have had more combat experience than me. Though I wear the uniform, they have seen more battle. I’ve spoken to some who have been shot at or held prisoner, and I am called the Soldier. The Soldiers are the ones fighting the wars, right? Yes, we are, but we are not alone. The world should not forget those brave few who fight with no uniforms or the protection of comrades. They fight terrorism, injustice and international problems with the simplest, and yet most dangerous tool in the world – words.
Bullets have never truly made someone change their beliefs. Rockets have not solved cultural differences. Only through words can people compromise and understand. Only through dialogue can people develop and grow. I don’t know all of Mr. Foley’s work or the level of impact his work had, or could have had, on the world. I just know he was a respected journalist who was apparently passionate about telling stories. His stories took him all over the world and put him in danger, and yet he continued to go. He must have felt that he had to tell these stories. He had to explain what he was seeing so that the world could understand. And maybe, just maybe, someone could be helped. His words were his weapons, and he was murdered for them.
Again, I don’t know Mr. Foley. Nor am I well versed in political events or the actions of terrorist regimes. But I am not here to discuss those things. I merely wanted to honor a fellow Soldier who was fighting for justice and peace in the world. I wanted to remind the world that not all heroes wear uniforms. They don’t all have rifles. They fight with their ideas, their hearts and their words. They make the world a better place to live. May you rest in peace Mr. Foley. You will not be forgotten.
I keep saying I am going to write and never do. Yet, all these words constantly bombard my head. The thoughts range from my family to my work or to my never-ending to-do list. Then the next moment, I might be thinking about something from a deployment or why the driver in front of me was ever given a license? (Seriously, who thinks crossing four lanes at 80 mph is a safe option!) Or if my mind is really wandering, I may think about the bucket list I need to create or the dramatic romance stories I say I will write (that will of course not reflect any real people, places or events in my life in order to protect the innocent). I wonder about religion, grammar rules, and why can’t I find the perfect Christmas cookie recipe to save my life?
At times, it is very loud and random in my head and I want it to stop. I embrace the quiet moments where I am just sitting and enjoying absolute silence. It is when I am at peace. But given a moment of quiet, while I sit and enjoy the world around me, I will notice how the light hits something and immediately start thinking of how that would make a great picture.
Yes, it is utterly exhausting in my head at times. So therefore, I must write. I may write about complete and utter nonsense that no one on the face of the earth will care to read, but frankly, I simply do not care. I need to write. I need to free these thoughts. (It is getting a bit crowded in my head with all this thinking going on.)
So here I go. Feel free to enjoy the journey. It may not make sense. It may not always be grammatically correct. Or it may not be interesting at all, but it’s a start – my start.